From: portia1@mindspring.com 
Date: Sun, 14 Nov 1999 22:33:10 -0500 
To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com 
Subject: Reflections - In the Window (1 of 1) 
 

Well, here you go -- my first, and perhaps final submission to the list.
It's just a little rumination on what an "outsider" in the Community might
have to say about our dear ones' interactions.  New writers especially need
feedback (you wouldn't want me to keep posting the same drivel if you could
prevent it!), so please send comments of any kind to:

portia1@mindspring.com



Reflections - In the Window (1 of 1)

He held too tightly...too closely.  He held too harshly and was too
controlling. I wonder sometimes what Nicholas might have come to, if
LaCroix had given him just a little more room.

The General always had an eye for beauty and for art.  His tastes were
exquisite, though often in demeanor and in behavior he seemed much the
brute.  And it must be noted his choices were often eclectic - he liked the
rare oddity, and purity in all its forms - pure tone and line, pure
emotion, pure innocence and pure evil.  But there was little he touched
that he did not rework to his own ends or his own desire.

He engendered a spate of progeny throughout history and had more success in
that endeavor than most.  Few of those he created were lost to the madness
of first hunger or to the decades spanning psychosis that initially
accompanies the Change - the dizzying expanse of the senses and the rush of
altered hormones through the body, the metamorphosis of brain synapses and
the re-wiring of the nervous system.  At least, that is what I suspect
happens as we make the Change, and the cause of why so many fail to
survive...or must be destroyed.

Yet for all those he created - and he was a good mentor, setting all his
offspring on a good road to success and survival - only two were chosen for
a closer bond...a familial bond.

From afar it must have been difficult to perceive why they especially were
chosen.  They were both beautiful and talented, true, both a perfect
compliment for the other.  Light and Dark, truly a matched set.  Yet such
could be said for so many of the others.  The lovely Francesca comes to
mind  -- whatever happened to her?  I've never heard.

For those few of us allowed a closer acquaintance, however, the issue
gradually became much clearer.

Janette, the Dark Princess, with gleaming violet blue eyes - an alabaster
goddess!  You see, even in describing her, mundane terms can not be used.
Where did she learn that absolute self-possession, that dignity and sense
of command that made even those older and more powerful than herself wish
to serve her, to worship her?  I sometimes suspect he must have whisked her
away from behind some palace wall and left some Monarch mourning the loss
of his daughter or his lover. The longer I knew Janette, the more I came to
respect and admire her, and the more I came to see her father's influence.
No creature -- aside from himself -- have I ever met with a stronger sense
of self-preservation or a greater understanding of her status as a predator.

And Nicholas?  He was still relatively young when last I saw him.  A joy to
know.  What dichotomy he exhibited!  One moment a vicious, ruthless killer,
infinitely creative and cunning in his ploys. The next moment a laughing,
open-faced young man eager to sample and share all that life holds with
those rewarded by his friendship and affection.  His energy and joy lit up
a room.  Oh, perhaps it was his youth - young ones do have the ability to
delight their elders, and still have so much of the juice of life -- and
his fair perfection did draw the eye.   But there was more than that.  For
all of the decadence his master had taught him and he had reveled in, for
all of the blood and decades that had flooded through him, an innocence
still shone in his eye and kindness freely given still reflected in his
face.  And the faint aroma of his blood!  Ah...Ambrosia.

In truth, I might have taken him for my own if his master had not refused
all trespass not freely given.  And though each bore markedly the scent of
their master's interest, and while I saw how sensuous a creature Nicholas
could be as he made his way through the ladies, I never once saw him accept
the advances of any other male.  What a waste.

Oh, Janette was clearly made to be Queen of the Night, but who would have
thought that old Lucius himself would have had any lingering desire for the
day?  Nicholas was Apollo - Lord of Light.

How, then, did the warp set in?  How did the laughing boy turn into the
self-denigrated, burdened man, as last I heard him reported?  Even then,
young a fledgling as he was, I wondered that Lucius held the leash so
tight.  And, even from across the room, the possessive eye weighed and
assessed.  LaCroix was a man used to conquering and to possessing, used to
devouring life.

You ask me why I think it came about?  He held too tightly, too closely.

With broken wings, no falcon can fly.


end.


What do you think?  Should I stick my head back in the sand?  I've written
another Reflection in this series from a better known perspective and would
like to send it, once I assess the feedback from this one.  Remember,
feedback to: portia1@mindspring.com